


Forever

by pixiegerms



Series: Marriage verse [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Being totally upfront there is angst ahead, But there's a happy ending so stick around, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, So enjoy the cuteness while it lasts, So much angst, bb!Arthur, bb!Eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiegerms/pseuds/pixiegerms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur makes a small sound of understanding, before looking back down to where their fingers are entwined. Then his head snaps back up to look at Eames. “So, we’re going to get married, right?”</p><p>Eames nods in affirmation. “Yep. And we’ll be married forever.”</p><p>Arthur’s mouth falls open in surprise. “Forever? How long is that?” </p><p>Eames blinks, then looks down, perplexed. He pulls his hand away to count on his fingers. </p><p>“Two hundred years, I think.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant for the Inception Reverse Big Bang a few months back, but then life happened and it didn't work out. I lost most of the second half of this story in a computer crash and was pretty discouraged, but I'm writing again now. I decided to put it up as parts in a series, as I'm still finishing it up.
> 
> Keep in mind, I know it seems adorable and cute now, but prepare to have your feels assaulted pretty vigorously throughout. I promise a happy ending, but if a rocky middle isn't your thing, back out now! There are four chapters in this first part (already written), which I'll be posting over the next week or so.

It’s raining. It’s summer and it’s _raining_.

Not that it doesn't rain in California, but it hasn't _stopped_ raining. Arthur doesn't think he’s seen the sun once since he’s been here.

“I hate it here,” he mutters to himself. It’s pointless, but it makes him feel better. His mom had yelled at him and told him to stop complaining, so he’s reduced to muttering angrily to himself and shooting her glares behind her back.

He feels like an entire lifetime has gone by, but they've only been in London a week, he’s told. Seven days, twenty four hours, sixty minutes; Arthur has it memorized. It doesn't mean anything to him yet, but he likes knowing.

A cold wind blows at him and the hood of his raincoat gets blown off his head. Arthur pulls it up from his shoulders and scowls up at the sky.

“Arthur, your dad wants to talk to you,” his mom calls from inside. He scowls at the front door, too. He _just_ came outside to play. Now he has to take off his boots and his raincoat just to talk on the stupid phone.

“Hi, Dad,” Arthur says, plopping down on the sofa.

_“Hey, champ. You having a good summer?”_

“No,” he says. His father knows this. Arthur doesn't know why he always asks.

_“C’mon, I thought we said we were going to make the best of it?”_

Arthur’s bottom lip trembles. “Yeah, but it keeps raining and I miss you and Dom and Alpha. I don’t know anyone here.”

“You start your daycamp in a few days, Arthur. You’ll make plenty of friends.”

Arthur tries not to cry. “No I _won’t_ ,” he says insistently.

Arthur buries his face in his knees petulantly and holds out the phone for his mother. He doesn't want to talk anymore.

He hears his mother sigh. “Yeah. He gave me the phone.”

Arthur wipes at his eyes furiously, huddling further into the couch. Thunder booms outside once, then again and he _hates it here_.

 

 

Teddy-Alpha is swimming his way across Arthur’s bed sheets when someone knocks on his door. Arthur’s hand pauses. “Come in.”

Arthur’s mother steps in, smiling from ear to ear. Arthur looks at her suspiciously. “Did Sarah leave?” he asks.

His mother nods and Arthur sighs in relief. He doesn't dislike his babysitter, but she makes him nervous because he can never understand what she’s saying.

“I just got off the phone with someone very special, Arthur,” his mother says, sitting next to him on the bed.

“Who?”

“A woman I know from work,” his mother says. Arthur blinks at her.

“Okay,” he says, waiting.

“We were talking, and she told me something that I thought you might find interesting.”

“What, what did she say?” he asks eagerly.

“She told me she has a son your age. I found you someone who can be your very own London friend! Wouldn't you like that?”

Arthur stiffens, processing her words. He’s silent for a long while. It makes his mother hesitate.

“Aren't you happy? I thought you would be thrilled, love.”

Arthur looks up at her. She looks so hopeful. “Mommy,” he says quietly, teddy-Alpha falling out of his grip, “he won’t like me.”

“Oh, Arthur,” his mom sighs. Arthur lets himself be pulled into her lap. “Why would you think that?”

Arthur looks down and shrugs. “No friends at home.”

His mother looks like she doesn't know what to say. “I think... Let’s,” she starts and Arthur stares up at her, waiting. She tries again, “Let’s think of it like a new start, then.”

Arthur looks at her suspiciously. His mother smiles encouragingly and pets his head.

“He’ll adore you, Arthur. I just know it.”

 

 

One bedtime, a breakfast, and a lunchtime pass before Arthur is pacing the living room nervously, waiting for the doorbell to ring.

His mom is washing dishes in the sink and she’s humming merrily as if Arthur’s worry means nothing to her. He only has a little room in him to feel irritated that she’s so merry; he’s pretty much consumed by the fact that he’s going to meet someone new and play with him and maybe make a friend for the--

_Ding!_

Arthur jumps about a foot in the air and his heart starts rabbiting. He makes one last attempt at running back to his bedroom, but his mom grabs his hand firmly and makes him stand beside her as she opens the door.

What Arthur sees is...not what he expected.

There’s a boy who’s little like Arthur, with tufts of blond hair sticking up in all directions. He has some sort of red stickiness on his face and on his hands and, most strangely, he’s not actually wearing a shirt.

The boy is sipping from a juice box, seemingly not at all concerned with his appearance. He seems more interested in trying to peek at Arthur from where he’s hiding behind his mother’s legs. Arthur shies away from his gaze even more, trying to pretend he’s somewhere else.

Suddenly there is a little boy and a lady in his house and there is no way Arthur’s moving from behind his mom. He finds himself thankful for her swishy skirts that make a good hiding place.

“So sorry about the trouble,” the lady is saying, “he spilled juice all down his front and I didn't bring a change of clothes.”

Arthur’s mom laughs. “Not a problem, love. We’ll fix him right up.” Then, “Arthur, aren't you going to say hello?”

Arthur stares up at her, betrayed. She gives him a pointed look and he drops his gaze to the floor and mumbles a muffled, “Nicet’meetchu.”

“Oh, Em, he’s a _darling_!” the lady says, smiling at Arthur and looking like she wants to pinch his cheeks. He shies away even more.

“You’re a _darling_ ,” the boy mimics, grinning at him. “Why are you hiding, darling?”

Arthur scowls. “M’name’s _Arthur_ ,” he says, gaze on the floor.

“Okay, darling,” the boy says. He’s still smiling like something’s funny, and Arthur can see he’s missing a few teeth.

“And what’s your name, love?” Arthur’s mom asks before Arthur can respond, addressing the boy.

“Eames,” he says simply.

Arthur’s mom glances at Eames’ in confusion, but she just shrugs. (He’s his father’s junior, Arthur hears later. _He doesn’t like to go by it anymore after, well._ )

“Did you hear, darling? My name’s Eames.”

Arthur turns his scowl to Eames. “I’m not _darling_ ,” he says, hands on his hips.

Their mothers laugh and Arthur is annoyed that he didn’t even notice having stepped out from behind his mother’s skirt. He scowls even harder when his mother slips out of reach so he can’t latch on again.

“Arthur,” she calls, already in the kitchen, “I’m going to make us a cuppa, be a love and show Eames your shirts, alright?”

Arthur sighs long-sufferingly and marches to his room, not checking to see if Eames is following behind him.

 

 

Arthur gapes at Eames as he pulls the shirt on carelessly over his head, and he all but tackles him to the ground. “Stop stop stop _stop_ ,” he says and Eames blinks at him, confused.

“What did I do?”

Arthur takes the shirt from Eames and smooths it out in his grip. “You’re _stretching_ it,” Arthur says seriously. “You have to be careful.”

“Sorry,” Eames says plaintively, and he actually looks sorry.

Arthur nods, but doesn't make any move to hand him back the shirt. Eames looks at him, obviously waiting, and Arthur just...

He’s crying. The kind of tears that get him pushed on the playground, silent and slow moving. He smushes his fists into his eyes but they just keep coming.

Eames makes a noise next to him and Arthur feels a hand resting on his shoulder. He looks up and Eames is staring at him with wide eyes.

“What’s the matter? Does your tummy hurt?”

Arthur shakes his head, wiping at his eyes furiously.

“Do you want to watch Batman and have a cuddle?” Eames asks him earnestly.

Arthur blinks at him. “What?”

“S’what my mum always does when I’m feeling sad.”

“I’m not feeling sad,” Arthur says, sniffling. “I just. I miss everything.”

Eames nods at him, and Arthur continues. “I just miss my fish and my house and my bed and the sunshine and my _daddy_ ,” he says, hiccuping around a sob.

Eames pulls him into a hug and pats at his back. “It’s okay, darling. I miss my daddy, too.”

“Don’t call me that,” Arthur says half heartedly, before realizing what he says. He blinks up at Eames with watery eyes. “Wait, you-- you do? Where is he?”

Eames shrugs. “Don’t know. Just don’t see him no more.”

Arthur nods and pulls out of the hug. He feels bad about crying and missing his daddy when Eames doesn't even see his at all. Tears gone, he stares down forlornly at the shirt in his hand. He hates messing up his clothes, and now Eames can’t even wear it. “I cried all over it. I'm sorry.”

Eames just grins at him. “S’alright. I can wear a different one.”

As Eames pulls a new shirt on, Arthur sits on his bed in silence, not knowing what to say. After a while, he breaks the silence.

“Do you want to, um...” Arthur says hesitantly, “do you want to play with my toys?”

He shirks back, but Eames doesn't scoff at him and tell him _toys are for babies_ , like he expected. He’s nothing like Dom.

And anyway, It’s a little too late, because Eames has already made a beeline for his toy chest. “Wow, you've got heaps!” he exclaims, sounding impressed.

Arthur smiles warily, watching him go through it.

Eames pulls out his legos and immediately sets to work. He’s already got a mini-robot built up by the time Arthur works up the courage to show him his prized possession.

“This is Alpha. He’s my fish,” he says, holding teddy-Alpha protectively. “Well, he’s not real but I got him in the aquarimum in the zoo. My real one’s home with my daddy.”

He looks at Eames nervously, but he’s looking at him and actually listening. “What’s a aquarimum?” Eames asks.

“It’s like a big place and they have fishies and lobsters and sharks and stuff,” Arthur explains. He holds out teddy-Alpha tentatively and tells Eames, “You can play with him, if you want.”

Eames takes teddy-Alpha and puts him next to the robot, and Arthur is pleased with how careful he handles him. “They can swim in the ocean together, and fight sharks.”

Arthur considers that. “I don’t think robots can swim in the ocean.”

“Why not?”

“They get broke in water.”

Eames nods seriously and says, “Well, they can go to space instead. We can get your fishie a helmet so he can breath on the moon.”

“Yeah!” Arthur agrees eagerly. “I have a rocket somewhere, they can go in that!”

Eames grins and then he jumps up quickly. “I have a better idea! Let’s play moon men!”

Arthur pauses, excitement gone in a rush. He’s painfully aware again of how often he doesn't’t play with other kids his age. “Or, um, we could put them in a rocket and blast them off?” he says hopefully.

Eames nods, “We could do both. Me and my friend Ben play moon men all the time, it’s loads of fun.”

When Arthur doesn't say anything back, Eames looks at him strangely. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like games?”

Arthur nods, looking anywhere but at Eames face.

“Don’t you know how to play moon men?”

Arthur shakes his head.

“Cowboys?”

Again, he shakes his head.

Eames seems to contemplate this. “Well, what about hopscotch? I think I have some chalk in my bookbag.”

“I never played those games ‘afore,” Arthur says quietly.

“Why not?”

Arthur shrugs. “Nobody wants to play with me. I don’t really have any friends.”

Eames looks taken aback, like he can’t quite believe someone doesn’t have any friends to play games with. “Oh,” he says, clearly not knowing what to say. “Well, I’ll teach you. And I’ll be your friend.”

Arthur’s head snaps up. He narrows his eyes and looks at Eames suspiciously. “Really?”

Eames nods twice. “Yeah, ‘course! We can be best friends.”

He says it like it’s so normal, but Arthur’s never had a best friend before and he can’t quite believe his luck.

“Best friends?” he asks quietly, trying not to sound too hopeful in case Eames changes his mind.

“No,” Eames says and Arthur deflates. He should have known, shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, shouldn't have-- “We can be boyfriends.”

Arthur covers his mouth with his small hands and gasps dramatically. “Seen it on the telly,” Eames says, oblivious to Arthur’s shock. “It means that, like, we can get married, or something.”

“Wow,” Arthur breathes out, eyes wide. “You want to be that? With me?”

Eames grins, “Yeah. But you have to learn moon men first.”

 

 

“So, Arthur,” his mother says when they’re sitting down at dinner that night. “Did you like Eames?”

Arthur nods his head, eyeing the green dots in his rice suspiciously. His mom had said it wasn't vegetables, but he sees her take them out on the counter when she’s cooking and they have to be going _somewhere_.

His mother smiles and says, “See, didn't’t I tell you that you would make friends?”

Arthur nods again. He pushes the rice around with his spoon and says distractedly, “Yeah, we’re boyfriends now.”

Arthur doesn't understand why her knife and fork fall to the floor with a noisy clatter, or why she stares at him like he’s crazy, or why he hears her later talking on the phone with someone in hushed whispers.

“Yes, Arthur said the same thing to me. But he’s never...it is, I know. I'm not worried, by all means bring him over on Saturday. Yes, we’ll have a talk then.”

 

Their mothers try to chat with them, but Arthur and Eames just look at them blankly. Because what’s the problem? Didn't his mother always tell him that he should have friends. He has one now, so why is she complaining?

His mother had looked hesitant at this. “I'm not complaining, chickie. We’re just a bit curious how you and Eames came to this decision.”

More blank stares.

Sighing, they seem to give it up. Arthur and Eames are boyfriends now, and, with all the intense fervour an almost-six year old can muster, Arthur knows no one can take that away from them.


	2. Chapter 2

_1 year later_

_“Dad!”_ Arthur screeches, all but tackling his father to the ground. His dad drops the suitcase in his hands and holds his palms up pacifyingly.

“Got something else to pack, kiddo?”

Arthur nods furiously. “I forgot to put in Eames’ fishie,” he whispers seriously.

He unzips his small suitcase (Dom had laughed at him and told him Dora was for girls) and stuffs the small fluffy fish inside. When he zips it closed again, his dad picks him up to sit on his lap.

“I’m going to miss you, Arthur,” his dad says sadly, smoothing Arthur’s hair back from his forehead. Arthur feels a pang of guilt, because he’d been so caught up on seeing Eames again that he’d forgotten to feel sad that he was leaving his daddy behind in California.

“Me too, Daddy,” Arthur says softly. “But it’s not for a long time,” he adds, trying to be cheerful. He doesn’t understand why his dad looks even sadder when he says that.

“I sure hope not,” his father says softly. “Hurry back, okay?”

Arthur nods just as his mother comes in the room, tapping her foot loudly against the wood floor. Arthur feels his dad stiffen below him.

“We’re going to miss our flight,” she says tersely and his father nods and sets Arthur down on the floor. All at once, any uncertainty is gone and Arthur is filled with excitement again.

Because he’s going to see Eames again soon! And not just on the computer or on the phone. In person! He’s going to get to hug him, and play games with him and --

“--when you won’t even let me drive my own son and wife to the airport?” Arthur hears his daddy saying angrily.

“I’m taking my car, and that’s the end of it, Ed. It’s more convenient for both of us.”

“Two _months_ , Emily. That’s how long I won’t see him for, and you won’t even let me go to the airport with you?”

Arthur looks at them, confused, and his mother doesn’t respond. She leans down next to him and the angry look on her face doesn’t go away.

“Why did you hit Dom, Arthur?” she says and Arthur scowls instantly. He should have known Dom would tell on him, the big baby.

“He told me that Eames and I wasn’t getting married and I told him that we are and he laughed at me so I punched him in the testicles.”

His parents look at him slack jawed, and Arthur looks back. Dom deserved it.

His mother sighs and rubs at her forehead with her fingers. “Just...come apologize and say goodbye to him. And bring your suitcase.”

Arthur grudgingly says sorry to Dom and hugs him goodbye. Dom hugs him back fiercely for a long time, then he pulls away roughly and says, “Not gonna miss you anyway, you weirdo. Have fun with _Eames_.”

Then his Daddy is lifting him up and squeezing him tight. “I love you so much, okay, Arthur?”

Arthur nods and hugs him around the neck. “I love you too, Daddy. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

His dad nods and puts him down. Arthur clambers into the backseat of the car. He’s still waving goodbye when his mother pulls away from the curb.

 

 

The sounds of London are all around Arthur. He perks up when he hears the familiar accent, and wonders how he ever found it hard to understand.

After the cabbie drops them off at their rented flat, his mom takes him to get fish and chips, and then they take a trip to his grandparents. Which is nice because his grandma pinches his cheeks and gives him cookies, even if his grandpa complains about the way he talks (Arthur doesn’t know what a ‘yank’ is, but he doesn’t really mind his grandpa’s grousing).

When they're back at the house, Arthur's eagerness comes back. He's been in London since morning and his mom hasn't even mentioned Eames once. But taking one look at her tired face, Arthur decides not to say anything.

He's surprised when, instead of unpacking, his mom pulls him into bed with her as soon as they get back.

"You sleepy, mom?" Arthur asks, and she pulls him in close and nods.

"So tired, babe. You're not?"

Arthur shakes his head as best as he can with it so close to hers. She sighs and says, "Well, I'm jetlagged to pieces, love. Let's take a small rest, alright?"

Arthurs nods his acquiescence, then, thinking of something, asks, "What's jetlagged?"

"It means mummy has to rest her eyes for a bit."

Arthur nods again. Jet means plane, so the plane ride probably made her sleepy. And despite not feeling sleepy himself, Arthur finds himself dozing off anyway.

He dreams of bright smiles, and teasing, and Eames.

 

 

Arthur hadn't been too keen on the idea of going to school in the summer. Not because he didn't want to learn things. But because he's never had the best of luck trying to make friends. Eames hadn't helped at all, telling him stories of all his friends and the games they play together and all the fun he's _so sure_ Arthur is going to have with them.

Arthur isn't convinced.

The worry is proven valid all too quickly when, during the very first snack time, Eames' friends crowd him, quickly overwhelming him. One asks, "Why do you talk weird?"

Arthur blushes a bright red when the other kids laugh, but Eames looks angry. "Why is your big mouth so big and ugly, Daryl? Why do you always ask stupid questions in class?"

The kids laugh harder at that and Daryl scowls. Arthur feels momentarily bad for the boy, but that goes away when he says, "What do you know, Eames? You're just as weird as your weirdo friend with a weird ribbon on his shirt."

Arthur frowns and says firmly, "It's a bowtie."

Snack time finishes, and teacher goes back to talking about animals. Arthur knows lots of different types of fish, but his happiness when the teacher smiles at him is replaced with embarrassment when Daryl mutters from behind him, "Swot" and the kids around them who heard giggle.

Arthur has no clue what that means, but he's sure it's not good. He decides to keep his mouth shut from now on.

At recess, Eames tries to hold Arthur’s hand, but Arthur frowns, and pulls away gently.

Eames tries to grasp for his hand again, but Arthur shuffles away. Eames looks at him, obviously hurt.

"They’ll laugh at us," Arthur says quietly.

Eames frowns. "So what? You have to hold hands before you get married, I don't care what they think."

Arthur starts to respond, then his brain short circuits. Eames looks at him curiously when he just stands there with his mouth open, so he says quickly, "Um, married?"

Eames nods matter-of-factly, and says, "Yeah, didn't I tell you?"

Arthur shakes his head. Eames shrugs and says, "Well, I don't want anyone else to try to be your boyfriend, 'cos I would be really sad. But my mum told me that if you have a ring on your finger then people won't try."

Arthur has no clue what Eames' is talking about, with rings and fingers. His mind is still stuck on being _married_. To Eames. Eames wants to marry him.

Eames grabs his hand back in his own and that seems to be the end of the matter.

Until the next day at recess, when Eames gives him something.

Arthur looks down in awe at the little ring of daisies around his pinky finger. He looks up at Eames, eyes wide. “Are we married, now?”

Eames smiles brightly at him, showing where his front teeth haven’t quite grown back in yet. “Not yet. We’re engaged.”

En-gag-ed, Arthur mouths silently to himself. “What’s that?”

Taking Arthur’s hand in his own, Eames tangles their fingers together. “It means we’re getting married soon, but not yet.”

“Why not?”

Eames looks at him like he’s asked a silly question. “Because we’re not grown ups yet.”

Arthur makes a small sound of understanding, before looking back down to where their fingers are entwined. Then his head snaps back up to look at Eames. “So, we’re going to get married, right?”

Eames nods in affirmation. “Yep. And we’ll be married forever.”

Arthur’s mouth falls open in surprise. “Forever? How long is that?”

Eames blinks, then looks down, perplexed. He pulls his hand away to count on his fingers.

“Two hundred years, I think.”

Arthur nods, even though he’s not too clear on his numbers past fifty yet. He plays with his ring, twirling it around on his finger. Then, struck with a sudden idea, he leans over and kisses Eames. On the lips.

He pulls back, expectant. When Eames only stares at him in shock, Arthur explains, “That’s how my mommy and daddy do it.”

“So?”

“So, they’re married. We have to start practicing for when we get married.”

Eames seems to consider that for a moment, then he shakes his head. “We have two hundred whole years, Arthur. I’ll be a million years old by then! There’s plenty time to practice.”

Arthur pouts. But before he can say anything, the teacher is calling their names. Recess is over.

 

After school, the petals on his daisy ring start to fall off and Arthur cries and cries and cries. Someone else might try to be his boyfriend now and he doesn't want Eames to be _sad_.

Eames just holds his hand and kisses his eyelids and makes him another.

 

 

Summer goes by far, far, _far_ too quickly. Much too soon, Arthur is crying buckets of tears and making Eames promise, and pinky swear and cross his heart and hope to die that he'll call him every single day and never ever _ever_ forget about him. Eames doesn't cry, but he hugs Arthur tightly and makes him promise the same thing.

"I love you, okay?" Eames says fiercely. "You're my boyfriend, not anyone else's."

Arthur nods three times in quick succession. "You too, right? No one else's?"

"Of course, darling," Eames says, and their mothers have to practically pry them away from each other.

Arthur doesn't stop crying. He cries quietly all the way to their seats on the plane, then he sleeps fitfully. When he wakes up, he's disoriented, before remembering he's on a plane that's taking him away from Eames, and he cries some more.

His mother looks frazzled by the time they pull up to their house. She'd kept promising him that she would let him call Eames as soon as they got back home, but it hadn't calmed him down much. He only really stops crying when he hears Eames' excited voice over the phone.

"G'morning, darling!" Eames says brightly and Arthur smiles and wipes his wet eyes with the back of his hand.

"S'not the same time here, I told you already," Arthur says quietly, feigning exasperation.

Arthur can hear Eames' smile in his voice when he says, "You still have your ring, right?"

Arthur nods furiously, even though he knows Eames can't see it. He would take perfect care of it. Eames had gotten it from a cereal box and said it was Arthur's, Arthur suspects mostly because he was getting tired of making him flower ones every day.

Arthur is sad for a long, long time. He misses Eames so much, and no one in school ever wants to play with him. To make things worse, Dom is nine now, and he's decided that he's too old to spend time with Arthur. They’re no longer friends, Dom says, just neighbors. So besides his phone calls with Eames, Arthur is alone.

One night, Arthur is lying in his bed, trying to play pretend with teddy-Alpha and only succeeding in making himself sad remembering how the real Alpha had died a few weeks ago, when he hears his parents talking in the kitchen. He creeps out from his bedroom and crawls slowly to the banister of the stairs, listening curiously.

"He's so depressed, Ed," he hears his mommy say. "He's miserable here and...we need to tell him."

He doesn't hear his father respond. His mommy says, almost too soft for him to hear, "We'll ask him. Let him decide."

"He's seven years old, Em," his father says roughly, and Arthur shirks back. He hates to hear him talk to her like that.

"What's the alternative? We said we weren't taking this to the courts, you promised."

His father makes a frustrated noise. "I know, I know. It's just… he’s not going to pick either of us."

They keep talking, but Arthur hears their chairs pulling out and he rushes back into his rooms and goes under the covers, trying to pretend he hadn't been listening.

When they come in, his mom sits on his bed and his dad pulls him into his lap and leans against his headboard.

The conversation that ensues is confusing, but it doesn't upset him. They tell him that they aren't going to be married anymore, and that his mommy is moving to a different place. Arthur understands up until that point, but then she tries to explain something else to him.

"You know how I work in London for a while in the summer time?" she says, eyes watching Arthur closely. He shifts in his daddy's lap, nodding tentatively. "Well, they want me to come back and work for them again."

Arthur nods again, wondering where she's taking this. She seems to hesitate, and then says, "They want me permanently."

Arthur blinks at her, not understanding. "What's permantley?

"It means for a long, long time. Longer than before."

Arthur takes a moment to absorb that. Then, his heart drops into his belly and his face crumples. "You mean you're going to live in London without me?" he asks, looking quickly at his mommy, then to his daddy, then back to his mommy.

His parents share a glance, then his daddy says quietly, "That's another thing we wanted to ask you, Arthur. Would you want to go with your mommy? Is that something you'd want?"

Arthur looks at them puzzled, trying to understand. Leave California and go to London? Permantley? London, where there's never any sun, the food tastes different, and the way he talks makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

His mind pauses, and then resets itself. London, _where Eames is_. Leave California and go to London, where he can see Eames all the time and not worry about having to leave.

Arthur processes that for a moment, heart racing. "Would Daddy come, too?" he asks after a moment, and his dad pulls him in to lean on his chest.

"I have to stay here, kiddo. Work with Dom's daddy. And someone needs to stay here, in case Alpha comes back, right?"

Arthur nods, ignoring that last part. They still don't know that he knows Alpha didn't run away, and is never coming back.

It's a lot to wrap his head around. He feels sad thinking about going to London and leaving his daddy all alone, with no one to play with or help him wash the dishes. He feels overwhelmed, trying to understand his parents not wanting to be married anymore, not wanting to even live in the same house. He feels his heart beating fast in his chest, imagining telling Eames that he's coming to London _permantley_.

When his dad taps him lightly on the head, he realizes that they're waiting for him to say something.

"Tell us, buddy," his dad asks, strained. "You want to go to school in California, or London?"

It makes him feel bad, but there was never really a choice when it came to Eames.


	3. Chapter 3

_1 year later_

Arthur is seven and small and fierce and, like always, he has a plan. He writes carefully in his neat hand:

DEAR MOMMY

I AM RUNNING AWAY TO MARRY EAMES BECUSE WE CAN NOT GET MARRYED IN ENGLAND

SEE YOU WHEN I AM A GROWN UP

LOVE ARTHUR

Eames peers at it. "Why are all your letters big?" he questions as Arthur folds up the letter and licks the envelope closed.

Arthur shrugs. "I like them like that. Let's go."

“How far is America, anyway."

“I saw it on the way home, it’s super close. Do you have your tie?”

Just like that, Eames is pouting again. “But Arthur, I don’t know how to put a tie on.”

“I told you, we’ll do it when we get to America.”

When Eames doesn’t respond, Arthur takes his hand in his own. “C’mon, Eames. Don’t you want to get married?”

Eames shrugs his shoulders and says, “Yeah, I guess. I just don’t know why we have to do it now.”

Arthur gives him an exasperated look. “I’m tired of being engaged, Eames. Let’s go.”

 

 

Arthur is a little annoyed at not being able to see over the counter, even when he stands on tiptoe. The lady by the till is giving him a bewildered look and that’s not helping his mood at all.

“Erm,” she says, “what is it you need, dear?”

Arthur sighs impatiently. “I said we’re here to get married, and also could you help us put on our ties.”

“Oh, darling,” she says and that only agitates Arthur even more. That’s Eames’ name for him. No one else is allowed to call him that.

“Arthur, let’s just go home. It’s almost tea time,” Eames says quietly, pulling lightly on Arthur’s arm.

Arthur is having none of it. “Can we get married, or not?”

Another lady comes over and she’s smiling from ear to ear and Arthur is on the verge of a tantrum.

“How old are you, love?” the second lady says, and Arthur gives her a look that’s supposed to convey _I am seven years old and about to have the world’s biggest tantrum_.

Eames pipes up with, “He’s seven.” Then, he adds proudly, “I already turned eight.”

The first lady laughs and shares a look with the second. “Well, I don’t know if you’re quite old enough to get married, lovies,” she says. “And I don’t know if you can do it right here in this store, as such.”

Arthur’s face falls. “But I thought we could get married in America. I ran away from home for this,” he says, gesturing pointedly to the backpack on his back.

The first woman looks at him curiously. “But this is England, love. We’re not in America.”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” Arthur snaps. “I know we’re in England. But I saw in the news that I could marry Eames and I don’t go back to my dad’s house in California for a long time because I live here, now.”

They don’t look comprehending. Eames squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Arthur means that we’re only little, so we came here to get married instead of flying to America,” Eames says, looking to Arthur for confirmation. Arthur nods his head in agreement.

“Oh my days, are they winding us up?” the first lady says to the second one, who is actually laughing.

“I have some bad news for you kiddies,” lady two says through her laughter. “This really isn’t America. Can you give me a number for your mummy or daddy so they can pick you up?”

Arthur looks at her like she’s stupid. “I told you already, we ran away from home.”

“So we’re not getting married?” Eames says in a quiet voice, tugging on Arthur’s hand again.

“Darlings,” the first one says sympathetically, “this is American Apparel. We can’t marry you.”

There’s a tense silence before Arthur bursts into angry tears. Eames pulls him into a hug before he can fly at one of the ladies and rip her earrings out, or something.

“Arthur, it’s alright,” Eames says soothingly. Arthur buries his face into Eames’ shirt and just cries harder. “We can get married some other time.”

“No,” Arthur says furiously, though it’s muffled by Eames shirt. “I want to do it now.”

Eames rubs his back soothingly and tells one of the store ladies Arthur’s mommy’s number.

Arthur doesn’t stop crying. Not when he’s in the car on the way home, not when his mom tucks him and Eames in for a nap, and not until Eames cuddles him close in Arthur’s dinosaur bed and says, “You need to stop crying. You’re upsetting Tommy.”

Arthur opens one eye and looks at Tommy, who just purrs and butts his head against Arthur’s face. He doesn’t seem particularly distressed, but Arthur would hate to upset him. So he stops crying, finally.

Eames sighs in relief and kisses his cheek. “I thought you would never stop.”

Arthur sniffles and says, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Eames says, smiling at him. “We didn’t get into trouble for running away from home because you were so sad.”

Arthur gives him a half-hearted smile, the exhaustion from the day creeping up on him.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get married, Arthur," Eames says, hugging Arthur close to him.

Arthur sighs. "It's okay. I guess we'll just have to wait until we're grown ups."

Eames nods. "You always have the best plans, maybe you'll think of something before then."

Arthur yawns and says, "Thanks."

They're quiet for a little while, and Arthur is just starting to fall asleep when Eames says quietly, "You're not mad at me, right?"

Arthur sits up a bit and says, "No. Why would I be mad?"

Eames shrugs. "Because I told you I wanted to marry you, and gave you a ring and everything...and I can't make it happen."

"I'm not mad, Eames."

Eames looks away from Arthur, then says, "I just don't want you to leave again."

Arthur cuddles back in and hugs Eames tightly. "I'm not leaving, I told you 'afore. I live here now. Even if it's smelly and rains all the time."

Eames says, "Okay. Just don't leave, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise?"

Arthur nods with certainty. After a while, they fall asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_3 years later_

Arthur swings his legs back and forth under the table. His feet don’t quite reach the floor, yet. It’s a little frustrating when Eames is sitting there eating his pancakes, feet flat on the floor neatly. 

It’s especially frustrating because they’ve always been the same height. But while Arthur was visiting his dad in California, Eames’ body had started to make Arthur’s look like a wimp.

Eames had only laughed when Arthur told him. “Well, I’m older than you, darling,” he’d said, like the almost year between them had ever meant anything.

“So, Eames,” his mother says, sitting down at the table with her own plate of food. “You’re turning ten soon.”

Eames beams up at her. “Yeah, I’m having a party at my house.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. He’s happy that Eames is getting a birthday party (with a waterslide and a magician and a real pony _can you believe it Arthur_ ). He genuinely is, but...

“...and a real pony, it’s going to be sick.”

He's getting pretty tired of hearing about it.

Arthur’s mother makes a noise of surprise and Arthur rolls his eyes again. “Ponies are for girls,” he says under his breath.

Eames just smiles at him and takes his hand under the table. “Don’t worry, Arthur, you can have first go.”

Arthur feigns disinterest. “I’m not bothered, Eames. One of your other friends can have first go.”

“You’re my only boyfriend, though,” Eames says matter of factly and Arthur beams inwardly.

Arthur’s mother is clearing up the mess of food when she says, “Alright, boys, go play outside. I need to get some work done in here.”

Eames gets up and uses his grip on Arthur’s hand to pull him outside. “C’mon, you can push me on the swing.”

“Thanks so much for letting me,” Arthur says sarcastically, but he’s content. No matter how many times Arthur’s showed him, Eames still can’t make heads or tails of swinging himself on the swingset. Arthur puffs up with pride that Eames depends on him for this.

Eames’ other friends wouldn’t do that. They’d probably tease him for being almost ten and not be able to do it for himself. 

Arthur frowns at the thought. Eames doesn’t need other friends, really. This birthday party isn’t going to be any fun at all.

 

“I’ve never had so much fun in my life,” Eames says excitedly, and Arthur can’t help but share the enthusiasm. The magician had just made a real live rabbit appear out of thin air and then the rabbit turned into Eames’ birthday cake. Arthur was a bit disappointed he didn’t get to play with it, but mostly he just couldn’t believe his eyes.

Eames cuts the cake with Arthur, naturally, and Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this happy.

But then: “Oi, happy birthday, Willy!” 

A cheery man with bright blond hair and an even brighter smile has opened Eames’ back gate and come walking into the backyard as if he owns the place.

Eames entire body slumps and Arthur can almost hear his groan from across the yard. He’s standing at his mother’s side and Arthur can see where Eames’ mother pinches his side behind his back.

“Do you have something to say to Richard, Eames?” Arthur hears Eames’ mom say. He inches a bit closer to hear more of the conversation, trying to drown out the screams and splashes of the other children.

“Don’t call me, Willy,” Eames says under his breath and Arthur giggles. Eames’ mother doesn’t find it so funny.

“Don’t be rude,” she hisses, pinching him again.

Eames sighs heavily, like he’s about to do the most tedious task in the world. “Thank you, Richard,” he mumbles in a rush, looking down at the dirt.

Richard smiles like he’s just been given the best compliment. “Not a problem at all, Willy.”

“Stop calling me that,” Eames says hotly, head snapping up suddenly. 

Richard looks taken aback. “Oh, sorry about that. It slipped my mind that you don’t go by it anymore,” Richard says. Eames look suspicious of his agreeability, but nods anyway.

“It’s been a lovely party, Richard,” Eames mother gushes. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Richard waves his hand and says, “Not at all, my love. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Then he actually winks at Eames and says, “After all, a lad only turns ten once, eh?”

Eames shrugs, and Arthur can see him fidgeting to get away. When his mother lets him out from under her arm, he walks away quickly, finding Arthur where's he's kneeling behind a bush.

Eames looks at him like he's insane. "What are you doing?"

"Who is that?" Arthur says, instead of answering. 

Eames sighs and sits on the grass next to him. "My mum's new boyfriend. Oh, sorry, her fiancee," he says snidely. "He knew me when I was a baby, so he thinks that suddenly we're best mates."

"Did he pay for this whole party?"

Eames nods sullenly, pulling up grass from the dirt with his fingers.

"Wow," Arthur breathes out, surprised. "He must be really rich."

Eames shrugs, then says, "Mum says we have to go live with him when they get married."

Arthur looks at him, alarmed. "He lives in London, right?"

Eames nods again, then bites his lip in the way that Arthur knows means he wants to say something. 

"What is it?" he asks patiently.

"He actually lives close to your house. We'd be almost neighbours."

Arthurs gapes, and a wide grin wants to break out on his face. But Eames only keeps frowning down at the dirt, hands rougher now, getting dirty with the way he's attacking the grass. "That's awesome, Eames. Aren't you excited?"

Eames scowls. "Why should I be? I don't want to live in his stupid house with my stupid mum. I _like_ my house."

"But we'd be neighbours," Arthur says eagerly. 

" _Almost_ neighbours."

"Whatever. We could go to each other's houses every single day, and you could walk home from school with me."

"Still don't want to live with him."

Arthur can't understand Eames' logic. "But he seems nice, Eames."

"He's _not_ ," Eames says emphatically, fixing his glare on Arthur.

"Well, he got you this amazing birthday party. He didn't have to do that."

Eames' frown deepens and he narrows his eyes at Arthur. "You're already on his side."

"I'm on _your_ side, Eames."

Eames obviously doesn't believe it. "I hate him," he says harshly. "He's taking my mum, and now he wants to take my boyfriend. I hate him, I _hate_ him."

"Eames, you're being irrational."

"You're being iratial," Eames says angrily, and he gets up and stomps off, leaving Arthur sitting in the dirt, staring after him.

Arthur hears Eames' mother tell him off for having dirt on his hands, and sees Eames run inside, but he knows Eames isn't going in to wash his hands. He kicks around the party for a while, hoping Eames cools off. Nobody seems to notice that the birthday boy isn't there anymore. The kids play on without him, and Eames' mom is talking to Richard, oblivious.

Arthur waits a few more minutes, then goes after him.

He finds him in his room with the lights off, buried under his covers. With the door closed you can't even hear that there's a party going on at all.

Arthur walks to the bed, hesitantly. He breathes a sigh of relief and slips under the covers when Eames automatically shifts around to make room for him.

"Please come back to the party, Eames," Arthur says quietly, trying not to upset him again.

Eames buries his face in a pillow. "No," he says emphatically, and Arthur can hear in his voice that he's trying not show he’s crying. He pulls Eames into a tight hug and wraps his arms around him.

"You always use big words to hurt my feelings," Eames says, voice muffled against the pillow.

"No, Eames, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings, I promise."

Eames peeks his head out, and his face is red, hair sticking up all over the place. "S'not fair, you're still a baby. You're not s'posed to know more words than me."

Arthur blinks, before realizing Eames is just kidding. He laughs and says, "It's not my fault you don't read enough."

"Still can't believe you got me a _book_ for my birthday, you big swot."

Then Eames is quiet for a moment, so Arthur uses it to ask him something that had been bothering him. "Eames...why didn't you tell me?"

"What?"

"About your mom's boyfriend, and them getting engaged and stuff."

Eames small smile fades and he stops looking Arthur in the eye. "I thought maybe they would break up. I _hoped_ maybe they would break up."

"When are they getting married?"

"Four months."

Arthur nods and doesn't push for any more details. Eventually, they both get up and trudge back down to the party, where they obviously still haven't been missed.

 

Arthur's mom lets Eames stay the night on a school night because it's his birthday. Arthur is beginning to regret this decision. They're kicking around in the back yard and Eames is just so _angry_.

"It's your birthday, Eames. Your party was so awesome," Arthur says placatingly

Eames says a bad word. Arthur blushes and looks around quickly to make sure no one overheard.

"I hate him. I hate his stupid face, I hate how he's trying to be nice to me, and I hate my mum."

Arthur looks at him like he's deranged. "Don't say that, Eames."

"She's the one who brought him round! She's the one who likes him so much!"

"But he gave you such a great party. There was a _pony_ , Eames.”

Eames scoffs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "He just wants my mum to think he likes me."

"Maybe he _does_ like you. Everyone likes you, Eames!"

Eames seems to think about that for a moment. "Well, I don't care. I don't like him, and I never, ever will. So stop trying to make me think he's so great, because I _won't_.”

Arthur sighs. He’s not trying to make Eames like anyone. He just wants Eames to stop being so upset. He hopes Eames can come around to this Richard, because his anger makes Arthur a nervous wreck.

 

_4 months later_

Eames fidgets in his suit, and he keeps pulling aggravatedly at the tie around his neck, but Arthur…

Arthur is in _love _. He preens at his reflection in the mirror, straightening this and tucking that, and just all around loving life.__

__Arthur’s mom pops her head round the door and says, “You ready, boys?”_ _

__Eames nods and Arthurs says brightly, “We’re good, mom. Let’s go.” The whole world needs to see how good he looks in this suit; he’s mildly disappointed that all eyes will be on the bride and not him._ _

__The wedding itself is a boring affair. Eames’ mom looks gorgeous as always, but the ceremony itself isn’t anything to shout about. The highlight of Arthur’s evening is Eames’ aunt telling him that he looks dapper in his suit. He preens and thanks her, his spirits lifted._ _

__Eames is silent throughout the whole affair, and Arthur knows it's partly because his mom and he are still fighting because Eames refused to be ring bearer. Arthur is quiet too, watching the proceedings, imagining the day he and Eames will get to have their own wedding._ _

__Then the reception starts and Eames gets to sit and be moody with everyone around him dancing and laughing. Arthur holds his hand tightly and asks him twice to dance. Eames shakes his head vehemently the first time, but he hesitates and says yes when when Arthur asks the second time._ _

__But the adults aww and coo over them, and it puts Eames off. Soon, they’re back to sitting at the kids table (around which they’re the only kids) and watching the adults around them get drunk._ _

__People start making speeches about the newlyweds and Arthur can’t help but doze off. It’s far past his usual bedtime and Eames arm around him is so warm and nice, and everyone’s laughing, and—_ _

__“Arthur,” he hears someone saying, and a hand is shaking him awake gently. When he opens his eyes, he sees his mom staring at him with a smile on her face. "C'mon, up, love," she says, and then does the same to Eames. "Let's get you laddies to bed before the tube closes."_ _

__Eames is always grumpy when he wakes up, and now is no different. Arthur sleepily tries to hold his hand, but he pulls away roughly and crosses his arms. Arthur pouts and crosses his own arms, but by the time they're on the train, they drape over each other again, quickly back to sleep._ _

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a few trigger warnings in the next part of the series, as well as a (well deserved, guh) Explicit rating. I'll include them, and additional characters, tags, and warnings, as they become relevant.


End file.
